love « The Blessed Heritage

I don’t blog much about our marriage. It’s not that we don’t have a great relationship. In fact, I think we have an intimacy–spiritually and emotionally as wel as physically–that many couples around us could only wish for. However, I tend to use my blog as information and inspiration, sometimes to the detriment of not posting what we actually do here in our home. I realized that as my dear blogging buddy Karen got all excited about Charlotte Mason’s approaches and then stated that she didn’t know anyone who used Miss Mason’s ideas—HA HA! I choose to post my heart as a mom, a teacher, and a woman, in the hopes that I’ll touch someone else’s.

Well, during the month of February, I took an opportunity to pen some thoughts about February, commercialization, and the evidence of real love. Enjoy it here…(by the way, the first sentence should have a strike-through in the word spending; just another place where technology hasn’t caught up to my eclectic sense of humor!)

I’m no poet; in fact, it’s one of the areas that I regret not paying more attention to when I was in school. It just didn’t grab me at the time. Now that it does intrigue me, I wish that I could convey that joy to the children in a better way. But I digress. This morning, headed down the path of self pity, I chose to write this as it came to me while making the turnaround. May it encourage you, too.

What I’d love to do is roll over underneath my warm sheets and not face the day with all its imperfections, all its annoyances, all its distractions, all its disappointments. What I am called to do is to rejoice, for this is the day that the Lord has made.

What I’d love to do is not work, just rest and watch football highlights. What I am called to do is to work so that I [and my family] can eat.

What I’d love to do is to hold on—hold on to time, hold on to energy, hold on to money; it’s all too tight and precious right now. What I am called to do is to give, and it shall be given back to me—pressed down, shaken together, and running over.

What I’d love to do is rage, rage against everything and everyone who said an unkind word, who looked at me “funny,” who didn’t line up with my plans. What I am called to do is to be slow to anger and quick to show grace and mercy.

What I’d love to do is what I love to do—scrapbook, read, relax, indulge in every self-satisfying work that pleases me. Yet, as in all things, I choose to do what I am called to do.

And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.